postbellum
by escapedreality
Summary: After the war they're just another generation seeking redress. Oneshots.
1. Dead Man Walking

antebellum

"Malice toward none with charity for all."  
>-Abraham Lincoln<p>

_dead man walking_

The victors, they claimed benevolence. They cried equality, peace and forgiveness for all: no revenge, no retribution. The ministry assured none of it would take place and that those who had been on the other side (the losers) had nothing to fear; everything would be done fairly and justly. "Let's rebuild everything together- let's restore the wizarding world to it's former glory."

But Draco Malfoy, he thinks (knows, _feels_) that the whole thing is bullshit. The Minister of Magic, yeah, he might be saying this. But the Minister isn't on the streets everyday, is he? Because these claims of kindness are just their way of shoving it down his throat, showing how angelic they are. It's a mask to the world, showing the crack of war and how quickly the mask is being patched up.

Some people find his pieces too scathing, too whiny, too ungrateful. These people know who he was and what he's done. Perhaps even, they've seen the mark and flinched or spat or were angered. Some of these people, they think it serves him right and his father deserves a stay in Azkaban (and that he's damn lucky he isn't there too)

Yes, Draco Malfoy knows the victors think they are just _so_ benevolent and angelic and _just. fucking. perfect._

And if they want benevolence, he'll show them it.

He'll show them what it's like to constantly look over your shoulder. To wake up somewhere unfamiliar when you don't; somewhere a hundred miles from home and broke as all get out.

He'll show them the missing family and the missing friends (and he promises, they had been there yesterday)

He'll show them the screaming and the clanging cells. The nightmares and broken homes (and all the broken people).

He'll show them the staring and whispering and all the rude gestures. The shoves, nudges, trips and a single word.

"Traitor"

And no matter what the ministry claims, or what 'progress' fills the papers, life for the losers is hell. And the one thing that everyone seems to forget is that they were just as affected by the damn war as the victors.

And after all of it, he's lost any excitement for life. Now he's just a dead man walking with no destination.

...

Astoria's a gift. Or an angel, Draco really isn't sure.

He meets her two years after the war, although it's more of a re-acquaintance because they were both Slytherins when he was still in school and he knows her sister well enough.

And she's nothing like Daphne.

She forcibly drags him back to the land of the living, makes him feel happy for the first time in forever. She never looks the mark, nor does she despise him as a Death Eater.

"You did it to protect your family, Draco. It's what anyone would have done."

Yet, as reassuring as it was meant to sound, it makes Draco cringe. For all he saved his mother and father (and he still isn't so sure about the last one), he can't help but think he's screwed his to be family over. After all who wants a husband or father who was a death eater? They'll be dragged through the gutter for it.

Because even if the ministry is benevolent, schoolchildren sure as hell won't be.

...

Lucius is released from Azkaban seven years later, coming home looking horribly aged and thin and shell of the proud man he used to be. The dark mark on his arm is rippled with scars; seven years of scratching still hadn't removed it.

He's missed a lot of things. His son's marriage, the birth of his grandson.

And as he holds a newborn Scorpius, he wonders for the 64,782 time whether everything was worth it.

...

Draco holds his son's shoulder tightly at Platform 9 and 3/4 as they wait for the Hogwarts express to arrive. He still was unsure whether it was a good idea to send him here and as he watched the multitude of Weasley's and Potter's farther down on the platform, his anxiety's increased. Potter looks up at him and he gives a brief nod. He can't help but hate him.

And it's no longer petty, schoolchild hatred or hatred because of the pain he's caused his family. Now he can only hate him and his children, along with Weasley's. Because Draco is sure they will make Scorpius' life a living hell.

(And he supposes he deserves this, at least. After all, he did the same thing to them during their time at Hogwarts)

So when he later finds out that Scorpius is becoming fast friends with the middle Potter child, Albus, and the eldest Weasley, Rose, he grins.

It's taken nearly twenty years but _finally_ Draco sees all the talk blossoming into something like the truth.

* * *

><p><strong>an: **I just came home from a trip to Washington (DC) and New York and was dismayed while there to be without my computer to jot stuff down. So now I'm going to be sorting through various notes written on napkins and the like to form some of my upcoming one-shots. However, the trip was very exciting !


	2. A Life is a Life

_a life is a life_

Everything is shrouded in dust and broken pieces. Once in a while, flashes of light will shine through. Red, yellow, blue and terrifying green. She continually checks around her, afraid to see a masked man or woman come up behind her and break her beyond repair.

It takes amazing amounts of self-control not to run away. She's a healer, not a fighter and this is way out of her comfort zone.

However, it takes even more of the barely existent self-control to help _them_. The enemy.

It would be incredibly easy to leave them for dead. Or perhaps, leave them to wallow in their miseries as they succumbed to injury. To be, in a horribly sickening way, _satisfied_ with their pleas for help because, damn it, they deserve it! After everything they've done, after the horrors they've put the world through. They deserve to die, she thinks bitterly.

Yet she finds herself trudging through the crumbling castle and dodging spells to help them.

...

She knew she wanted to be a healer from early on, since she'd barely arrived at Hogwarts. It was appealing, to save people. To fix them and make them well.

She was smart enough, she wasn't a Ravenclaw for nothing, and she was plenty kind. Comforting people was skill she was particularly adept at, whether it be from heartbreak or a bludger.

Healing was a brilliant profession it seemed, until she actually talked to Professor Flitwick about it.

"Padma, I'm sure you would be an excellent healer. You have the skills and the grades, and are taking all the correct classes as well. But healing is not textbook, you understand that?"

"Yes, Professor."

Flitwick considered her carefully, "You really must, healing is just that, healing. Healing regardless of who it is. A life is a life, Padma. When someone comes into St. Mungo's, your first priority is comfort and care, you can worry about who it is later."

Padma nodded vhemently, "Yes, Professor, I understand."

Flitwick nodded slowly, "Very well then, in addition to your classes I will check with Madame Pomfrey for you and see if perhaps you could help out there and learn the basics."

Padma had agreed excitedly, flying out of the room to tell Terry. She was fifteen and it was a romaticized profession. And though she didn't realize it at the time, during that meeting she learned the most important lesson of her career.

"A life is a life, Padma."

...

Through the dust and noise and yells, she managed to find a bit of solace in her work.

There were no rules of civility and the dark arts were just as game as anything else being used. The dark arts and the defence against them were equally as deadly and left equal destruction amongst it's victims. It comes to the point where she's barely able to identify what side they're on, much less who it is.

And it's a convenient way not to let emotion interfere with her job.

...

Seventh year provides plenty of practice for her, in the middle of the Carrow's grip on the school. The cruciatus curse is bad enough- at the hands of the inexperienced, it's danger increases tenfold, the same way it would at the hands of the skilled. Bruises, bumps, blood, broken bones- it's a permanent accessory in the corridors.

The Gryffindor's are the ones she sees the most often, particularly Neville until he disappeared into the Room of Requirment, according to Parvati. However, the Hufflepuff's and those from her own house have a substantial amount of numbers in the hospital wing as well.

She's noticed the lack of Slytherins who wander down for help, as well, and when they do it's for something trivial that makes her blood boil.

So her apathy is understandable when the eldest Greengrass is dragged into the hospital wing by Theodore Nott. She vaguely points to an empty cot as she goes about her business, tidying the room and pouring water for one of the younger patients there. She watches the two Slytherins out of the corner of her eye as she takes her time.

Greengrass appears only semi-conscious and Nott is holding her hand, muttering something, brows furrowed and frowning. He periodically checks to see if Padma is coming and each time he does so, she turns her head away, concealing her face behind her hair.

It takes twenty minutes for Nott to finally lose it, "For Salazar's sake, Patil! Can you please come here?" Padma holds his gaze for a moment before meandering her way to the cot on the opposite end of the room.

"You'll make a horrible healer, Patil," he hisses as she pulls up a chair.

"Oh? Is that so?"

"You're being a real bitch, you know that? You don't have a fucking clue why she's here," he said, keeping his voice low. Padma rolled her eyes.

"What? Did she forget how to use the stairs and trip? Or maybe she got her bloody ass beat by a Gryffindor, yeah?"

She never saw the slap coming and nor did Nott, because even as his hand hit her face, his jaw dropped and he stared at it. Regardless on his views of everything else, he prided himself in behaving like a gentleman. A major part of that involved not hitting girls.

Her pride wounded more than anything, Padma forced a smirk to her stinging face, "Touchy subject?"

"Try again, Patil," he growled, "Try Carrow. Oh, don't look so shocked. You think we're all bastards like Crabbe? Or Goyle? Malfoy perhaps? Naw, not really," he said, voice growing exceedingly calm to the point of being frightening.

"This is the effect of a crutacius curse on someone who faints when they attempted to do it. Have you had this case come in here before?"

Padma sat staring wide-eyed at the Slytherin boy, slowly noticing the finger shaped bruises and marks on his arms as he turned and left the hospital wing, hastily brushing his eyes (because there was no way he would show _that_ emotion to the Ravenclaw). Her hand was shaking slightly as she reached over to Greengrass.

Life lessons flood their way in when she least expects it and as the sun set on another miserable day at Hogwarts, Padma was starting to see what Flitwick had told her years ago.

Because the bruises that laced Nott's arms were no different than those that snaked around Neville's face. Injury didn't discriminate.

...

The man is nearly as old as her father she guesses and looks awfully familiar as she repairs a severely broken femur. The death eater is lucky to be alive at all, she thinks.

(She also thinks life would be so much easier if he weren't)

The man slowly comes to and spots her immediately, whipping his wand and firing a simple _Stupefy!_ that sails harmlessly past her; she's never been so glad for poor aim.

The man aims again but stops as they both hear a voice shouting, "Stop it! She's helping you, moron! Let her move on!" The moonlight is shining through a newly opened hole in the ceiling and Padma can vaguely make out Theodore Nott. He rushes over next to the man on the ground, whispering fiercely in his ear as an astounded Padma watches on. Grudgingly, the man lowers his wand and side by side, it becomes clear that he must be Nott's father. Theodore nudged his father, prompting him appeared.

"Thanks," Mr. Nott spat, unashamedly picking up the discarded mask signifying him a death eater, "Now get out of my sight and stay out. Next time I won't hesitate."

Padma won't see him again until his trial. However, Mr. Nott is fairly sure he sees her and is true to his word- he doesn't hesitate.

...

Several years later, Theodore Nott appears on her doorstep, a little girl that looks an awful lot like Greengrass in tow. She moves to shut it before he has a chance to speak.

"Wait!" he says quickly, catching it with his foot, "Patil, I only want a word." She eyes him beadly before showing him in wordlessly.

"Butterbeer?" She asks formally. He nods and Padma pulls out three glasses, "And her?" she questions, indicating the little girl.

"Water's fine."

Padma sets the three glasses down on the small round table and takes her seat. Nott rubs the back of his neck uncomfortably, eyeing the photos lining the wall. There are several of Terry and Padma and a couple from Hogwarts. Lastly, in the center, is one of both the Patils, waving gleefully from a rooftop in Calcutta.

Swallowing heavily, Nott makes an attempt to break the silence, "Um, how is she doing?" he asks, pointing toward the bright eyed Gryffindor in the picture.

"Not well," Padma says shortly in a tone that indicates the end of topic.

"Listen, I realize I'm the last person you want to see. You saved my father, which is far more than he deserved. I can't make everything up to you but I can give you this," he says, handing over a small envelope with the Nott crest on the front, "Started in your honor of course, and your sister's. It's my hope that it will expand to help those similarly affected."

"Thank you," Padma says stiffly, standing and giving a silent indication it's time he goes. He gives a slight nod and leads his little girl out the door before him. Padma sets the envelope down on the table in the foyer, not bothering to break the seal.

...

The morning after the battle brings no comfort, the Great Hall littered with bodies, dead and wounded alike. Padma is exhausted, having spent the past twenty-four hours awake and on the move. Water here, comfort there. A dose of potion, a quick spell. It's all very draining.

Which is why she is no where near prepared when she reaches the end of the line and finds Parvati laying there.

Her first reaction is total panic; her twin lies nearly unmoving and curse marks litter her body. Yet, as she approaches she hear soft breath and feels her heart beating faintly.

She scoops her into her arms, hugging her tightly, damning any protocol. But still, Parvati makes no response.

"'Vati? 'Vati! Parvati!" she says, shaking her slightly. The Gryffindor looks at her, eyes unfocused and not really comprehending. In a rush, Padma assesses her, fixing any injury she can see. But dark curses leave unmoving marks and perhaps deeper damage than meets the eye.

...

She's later hailed as the 'Angel of Hogwarts' by both sides and receives Order of Merlin, second class, which makes her parents extremely proud. But through all of it, the ceremonies, the funerals, all Padma feels is bone-chilling numbness.

It's been weeks after the battle and all her efforts haven't helped Parvati, who sits in St. Mungo's with Frank and Alice Longbottom. Padma has saved many people but her biggest regret is the one she couldn't save.

And when she hears on the grapevine that it was Mr. Nott, the man she had begrudgingly fixed, Padma Patil shatters into a thousand pieces. After everything she's done, going out of her way to help _them,_ this is what she's received in return.

Because all the awards and foundations and galleons in the world aren't going to give her sister back.

* * *

><p><strong>an:** I ended up liking this piece far more than I originally had. I also quite like the idea of Padma becoming a healer. It just seems right.


End file.
